So, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything on Autechre. I still adore their work, but damned if they haven’t made it hard to write about these last few years.
If you need catching up, here’s a guide I wrote to their earlier work. They’ve been around for three decades now, and the whole time, they’ve been at the bleeding edge of electronic music. While other experimental artists may trade in academic rigor, Autechre’s friskier tendencies have always been tempered by their roots in 1990s hip-hop. While they can certainly get difficult at times, there’s always a guidepost, even if it’s not evident on first listen.
The problem is, those guideposts have been spread pretty thin the last few years. Their last proper “album” was Exai in 2013. Then they released 8 hours of live sets. Then came the 4-record, 4-hour collection elseq. Then came another 19 hours of live sets. Then came 8 hours of new material from their residency at NTS. Another 8 hours of live sets were released earlier this year.
Plain fact is, 47 hours of material is quite a bit to absorb, and it gets exhausting. Adding to the fatigue is the fact that they’ve been using a somewhat harsh and metallic palette for the last few releases.
That’s one reason this record is such a surprise. SIGN not only clocks in at just over an hour, it takes a softer, less frantic tone than anything they’ve done in decades. It’s not a return to their early 1990s work, and despite what people say, it’s not a retread of 2010’s Oversteps.
To sum it up, there are some callbacks to their earlier work, and there’s nothing revolutionary here. This is a subtle, almost pastoral, record for them. After the last few years of testing our endurance, our psychological well-being, and certain laws of physics, it’s a frankly a welcome respite.
Opener “M4 Lema” starts out like something off the first side of Draft 7.30, but the rhythm settles into a predictable, if intermittent, backbeat. After a few muted outbursts, it takes shape into something sparse but beautiful. Possible points of triangulation include “bladelores” from Exai, and maybe some of Andy Stott’s work. It certainly kicks up some dust, but it never pushes the listener away.
“F7” is a bouncy affair, full of playful portamento and a gentle percussive patter that might be drums or might just be artifacts from the delay. The chord progression is a predictable descending minor-key thing until the note bending feels like it’s pushing it towards a major key at times.
“sl00” starts off with a jaunty bit of restrained percussion and a somber melody buried in the background. At the two-minute mark, a sinus-clearing sawtooth bassline kicks in and takes us in a more (though not completely) menacing direction.
“esc desc” is a five minute pretty, even sentimental, chorale. Problem is, it’s a bit thin to justify its runtime. The same thing goes for “au14,” which feels like they wanted to put something propulsive in the middle of the record but they couldn’t figure out what.
All is forgiven with “Metaz form8.” Yes, it sounds like something off Garbage. In fact, it sounds a lot like something from Garbage. Screw it. I like it. It’s gorgeous, it’s evocative, it sounds like they’re using an old Korg Triton, and I don’t care. This year has been a never-ending cycle of suck for all of us, and if Autechre want to do a break and make pretty music, maybe that’s what we all need.
OK. Deep breath. All better. “gr4” follows the same pattern as F7: pitch-bent 1990s synthesizers weaving in and out of sync until they settle on a surprisingly consonant major chord towards the end. As with most of the tracks (even the two I don’t like), there are some neat little touches that reveal themselves on subsequent listens.
The sound of “th read a” reminds me a bit of Oneohtrix Point Never. A retro synth plays a cyclical chord progression that feels sterile but soothing. Just before it gets too repetitive, they undercut it with the kind of circuit-bent bass lines they used on the NTS Sessions. The contrast between the smooth upper registers and the grimy low tones is fascinating.
“psin AM” is another track that doesn’t really blow the skirt up on first listen. It sounds a bit like something that might have been on Cichlisuite. It’s pleasant, and if it’s not essential, at least it segues nicely into the closer.
“r cazt” is one of the most arresting and beautiful things they’ve ever recorded. It’s seven minutes of fog clearing off a lake on a winter night. This is where their mastery of repetition distinguishes them from everyone else who tries something like this. It works a simple two-chord riff from every angle, and the subtle changes in instrumentation keep things interesting.
So, I’m at almost 800 words. I could do like the smart kids and draw some sociological parallel to how this is music for our current age of social distancing and…well, why not?
$%&* you, 2020. You took Wilford Brimley, Eddie van Halen, Ennio Morricone, and Toots Hibbert from us. You gave us a godawful virus and never delivered on the murder hornets. Oh, and thanks for all the $%&*ing hurricanes. Really.
So if this record is Rob and Sean’s attempt at delivering consolation, it’s a welcome one. It’s nice to see them dial things back a bit. It’s nice to hear them pay homage to old synths and warm pads. In its own way, this was really unexpected, and that’s what I’ve come to expect from them over the years. If it’s a sidestep, they’ve certainly earned it, and it’s a great record by any objective standard.